A Weekend in Paris
by talking-eye
Summary: AU. A few years after Season 3. Burke and Cristina are going to the romantic city for a wedding of her teacher from college. Ch. 9 added. Give this a chance. Reviews are always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

"Want to go to Paris with me this weekend?"

"I thought you're not into traveling." Stunned by the invitation, Burke placed his glasses beside the lamp and looked up from the book he was reading. "Besides, didn't you say Paris is a bit too romantic for your liking?"

"Yes, I'd rather be reaping people's heart out at the hospital." Cristina tinted her response with a sullen face.

Cracking his neck, Burke asked in an amused tone, "Then why are you asking?"

"My teacher. She's getting married." Cristina threw a fancy pink invitation card at Burke. "My teacher getting married for the first time at the age of 60. How can I say no?"

"They're getting married in Paris?"

"I heard her fiancé is French." Cristina stuck out her tongue.

"Does she speak the language?"

"French people also speak English." Cristina massaged her legs with her favorite lotion. "Besides, she's my French Literature teacher in college. She's from Quebec."

"I see." Burke smirked. "I didn't know you speak French."

Growing impatient, Cristina ignored his question, "Will you come with me or not?"

"Is she gonna pay for her students' tickets? And that of their significant others?"

"Unless her husband is a millionaire," Cristina turned off the light. "You know she's inviting all her students."

"That means I get to meet your classmates too."

"Yea. Whatever." Cristina did not sound enthusiastic at all. Before the next question came out of Burke's mouth, she had already fallen asleep.

_We're going to Paris._ Preston Burke was thrilled that after dating Cristina for four years now, they were finally getting out of Seattle together, even if it was just for a weekend.

Boarding the overnight flight with excitement, it seemed like only a few minutes have passed before he was standing in front of Cristina's teacher in Paris.

"Cristina, Ma chère! Ça va bien?"

"Oui, merci. It's good to see you again, Jeanne." Cristina was trying to catch her breath after the passionate hug from her teacher.

Pulling Burke closer to her, Cristina continued, "This is Dr. Preston Burke—"

"C'est ton mari? Un homme parfait!"

"Jeanne, Burke, uh, my boyfriend, he doesn't speak French."

When Burke heard Cristina describe him as her boyfriend to someone outside the hospital, someone from her past, his heart leaped with pride.

"Really? I thought you'd only go out with guys who speak French."

"Jeanne!"

"Ok. I'll keep my big mouth shut." Like her beloved student, Jeanne Latimer was a petite lady with very delicate features. Putting the word big and mouth together was, therefore, comical.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jeanne."

"Pleasure to meet you too, Burke."

"Preston, his first name is Preston." The word that normally flew out as freely as tap water sounded surprisingly odd when it was her teacher who used it.

"I know, darling. But you call him Burke, so I'll call him Burke as well."

A gentle beam covered Burke's face. Cristina was not sure if it stemmed out of politeness or awkward embarrassment.

"Tell me Burke, why Cristina?"

Burke looked at his girlfriend and began to lick his lips.

"C'mon Jeanne, you can't start grilling my boyfriend at 7 in the morning!"

"OK, let me ask again at 7 pm."

Cristina pressed her hand over her forehead. It wasn't the time that concerned her, it was his response. What if, what if he said something inappropriate?

Seeing the worried expression on Cristina, Jeanne laughed, "My darling, I was kidding. But I do ask my Charles this question all the time."

"Jeanne, why don't you tell us more about your fiancé?" Burke tried to shift the attention.

"Charles is 62. Still a handsome fellow. Just like you."

Burke's cheeks grew warm.

"How did you and Charles meet?"

"Here in Paris. Forty years ago."

Cristina starred at her teacher, shocked. "Forty years? Is that why you never got married, until now?"

"I was an exchange student. We never knew if things would last. Just like you, Cristina. I'm sure there must have been a fling or two when you're in Paris that semester! Then we lost touch. But he never lost his place in my heart…Some people, you know they are meant to be together. You know I'm a hopeless romantic."

Seeing his girlfriend blush, Burke was now paying full attention to the conversation. "Cristina, you lived in Paris before?"

"Yes." Cristina responded with some hesitation.

"And she never told you she's fluent in French? When I read her letters from Paris, she seemed to be so in love with the city that I thought she'd never come back."

Unbelievable, thought Burke. Cristina always seemed ambivalent towards Paris.

"It's so long ago, Jeanne."

"Of course. And you moved on." Jeanne steered her car into the hotel driveway. "But certain things stay the same. Paris has not changed since my very first visit."

Looking at the streets and buildings around her, Cristina could not help but agreed.

"Anyway, I need to get ready for tomorrow. We're only inviting some friends, but it's a wedding no less."

"Thanks for the ride, Jeanne." Cristina hugged her teacher.

"Burke, I'm sure Cristina will be a wonderful tour guide. Enjoy your stay! See you tomorrow!"

After Jeanne was gone, Burke asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I thought we're gonna stay in the hotel and sleep all day."

"Cristina, we're in Paris. I've never been to Paris before."

"So we're not staying in?"

"Nope."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Nope." Burke sounded very determined. "Let's go, Cristina. Show me your Paris."

Burke sounded like a little kid pleading his parents to take him to the circus.

"Alright." Cristina pulled her hair up into a bun, the way how many French women did. "I can't guarantee you we could check off all the tourist attractions in the guidebook in a day."

"We can always come back some day." Burke grinned as he put on his navy blue t-shirt.  



	2. Chapter 2

I promise. This is not a story of angst. But being sickly romantic is not my expertise.

Ch. 2

After Cristina got herself a map from the concierge, she and Burke left the hotel. No time was to be lost. Dating Burke was harder than going through medical school. First she had to be the good girlfriend, now the good tour guide. But seeing the excitement on his face, she did not want to disappoint. Although Burke had been to many places for conferences and consultations, the man had never been outside of America.

"So, where're we going first?"

"Coffee." Cristina blurted out the word, then holding it back. "Actually, no."

"Why?" Burke was surprised that she was giving up her favorite thing. The edginess in her also intimidated him.

"Well, we need to have a better plan if we want to go to more places. The cafés here are great, but only Parisians have the patience to sit and drink coffee for 3 hours. We don't have that much time to spare."

Burke smiled and nodded, although he didn't really understand what was on Cristina's mind.

"The French are very laid-back with their coffee. You could be sitting there, waiting, talking, smoking, watching people, practically doing nothing at a street-side café for a whole day."

"Isn't that what vacations are meant to be? To stay away from the hustle and bustle?" Burke was confused.

Cristina didn't seem to have heard Burke's remarks and she rambled on. "The coffee is great here. I'm sure you'll love their café au lait. It's thick and fresh. But seriously, we need to strategize. Paris has 20 arrondissements and if we don't plan well we will miss something."

"Arrondissement? Cristina, what do you mean?"

"Oops. I mean districts." She could not believe French words were slipping off her lips so naturally once again.

"OK. Whatever you say." Burke was trying to catch up with her. "Cristina, I don't know much about French culture and I don't think pedestrians get traffic tickets for speeding, but perhaps we could slow down."

"Oh. Are we walking too fast?" Turning back, she came to the realization that she was.

Trying to cover her mouth to conceal her amusement of seeing Burke running after her like an old fellow with a weak heart, she halted her legs, but her mind was still prancing. As if he could read her mind, Burke reassured her, "Cristina, I know you want to show me a lot of things. But as long as I'm spending time with you, it doesn't matter to me where we are and what we do. Let's take it easy."

Starring at him intently, Cristina nodded with some hesitation. "Alright." So now she wouldn't get a chance to prove how good she could be as a tour guide, she was feeling a bit discouraged.

"The Notre Dame. Cristina, why don't we go there first? I read Victor Hugo's story as a kid and have always wanted to see the place."

_My nerdy boyfriend. _Cristina smiled at the thought. Most guys she knew loathed reading. Burke was different. She imagined how little boy Burke was holding the thick novel in his hand, weeping over the love story between the kind and loving hunchback and Esmeralda. "Did you happen to like Beauty and the Beast as well?"

Burke scratched his head, not knowing if Cristina was trying to make fun of him.

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Located at the heart of the 4th district, the Cathedral of Notre Dame represented a prominent force of the French Gothic architecture. The spectacular stain glass windows were hallmark of this Catholic establishment and something that evoked in Preston Burke a sense of awe.

Cristina, on the other hand, was not particularly thrilled.

"If Paris has a heart, I'm sure this is it." Burke whispered, feeling religious.

"Oh no no no. It's at the Arc de Triomphe where 12 major avenues spread out. That's the heart of the city. Notre Dame can't beat Napoleon's plan."

"I see." Burke was happy to learn more about Paris, but the way how Cristina's seriousness burst his bubbles was disturbing. Why can't she be a little less serious, a bit more romantic sometimes?

"OK, Burke, we gotta go."

"So soon? Why don't we ask someone to take a picture for us?"

Cristina hated the idea. Only tourists would be taking pictures all the time. "Can we not do that? Why can't we just leave?"

"What's the problem with you, Cristina? I know you've been to this city before. You don't even want to be here. You want to rush off, fine. You want to lecture me about the geography of Paris, fine. All I am asking is just a picture of the two of us, why can't you let me?"

"Well, we never take pictures."

"Exactly! That's what I mean. We've been dating for 2 years and the only photo I have of you is the one you attached to your residency application!"

"Burke. You're being unreasonable today. Let's not fight outside a church." Cristina muttered that in a low voice. She felt like an unappreciated tour guide, whose cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Everyone else was quiet and laid-back in Paris, a quarreling American couple was quite a scene for all passer-by.

"Fine. You don't want a picture? You don't want to be a tourist? I do. Why don't you give me your map? I'll explore the city myself." Burke stormed off after snatching the map from her hand.

"Hey, but you don't speak French!" After a few more steps, she threw her hands in the air and exclaimed, "Whatever."

It was so wrong for him to criticize her that way and to say that she did not want to be in Paris. Her teacher was right. She loved Paris. And now, she was going to return to places she missed. Cristina walked in the opposite direction to catch the metro. Unlike Burke, she actually had the map of Paris engraved in her head. Originally, she wanted to tell Burke every story she had at all those special places. Not anymore. She pouted.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the delay. It's been to hot and my brain cells are glued together.

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Ch. 3

Burke took huge strides forward, imagining Cristina would follow. After all, she dragged him here to Paris for her teacher's wedding. Wouldn't it be too embarrassing for her if he's lost? He knew her well. He knew she didn't like to lose face.

Of course, Burke felt tricked by his instinct when he turned back. There was no Cristina. In fact, there was nobody. They weren't at the hospital; Cristina wasn't begging to scrub in on one of his surgeries. Why then would she want to follow him like a puppy?

_Whatever_, thought Burke. _I will find my way. I am a guy and I can read maps._

The problem? He didn't know where his next stop should be. Grudgingly he headed back to the entrance of Notre Dame, only to be caught in the midst of a group of pilgrims.

"You're blocking the way, young man."

"Sorry ma'am, I want to get into the church."

"This is the exit. You can't go in from here. Now, move along!"

Reluctantly, Burke followed the group out of the church and before he knew it he was climbing up to the church tower with a bunch of extremely healthy old grannies. He was glad that finally his hours of hard work in the gym were put to test. It would have been embarrassing if he ended up being the only guy panting after climbing those endless steps.

He was overcome by a sense of satisfaction after those endless steps. Unlike his girlfriend, Burke was physically very fit. He was convinced that Cristina would have passed out half way through. He could imagine how she would coerce him into carrying her all the way up. The woman had a lot of subtle tricks. No matter how impossible her requests were, Burke would yield whenever she tilted her head in a sexy way and winked.

_Saves me the trouble now that she isn't here. _Burke tried to talk herself out of missing Cristina. Who told her to abandon him? It was completely her fault that she didn't get to share the wonderful view up here.

"Wow, this is indeed beautiful!" The breath-taking scenery amazed him when he reached the top.

"This is nothing. You should climb up the St. Peter's Basilica." An older woman offered.

"Sure. How can I get there from here?"

"Can you fly?" The lady friend of the woman laughed.

The Basilica was in Italy, the Vatican to be exact. Clearly, geography wasn't Burke's favorite subject.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cristina was, on the contrary, the geography expert. Otherwise, why would she be able to tell Burke they were at the northeast corner of the hospital? Paris was her territory and although the metro map was more complicated than the human veins, Cristina knew it by heart. Standing by the door, Cristina smiled as she saw the pink bunny sticker. She recalled how she used to make fun of that stupid bunny that got trapped between the doors with Thierry, who would pretend to be that poor creature and stick his thumb out until the doors were only an inch apart.

_Those good old days._ Sometimes Cristina wished she could turn back time. Medical school and residency had taken away so much from her. All she was now left with was a boyfriend who ditched her, and a stomach waiting to be filled.

Time to indulge in some French delicacy, Cristina nodded at her own image on the metro window. That made the idea of finding her dear Thierry all the more appealing—the last time she checked, he was still in the same neighborhood, where Cristina's favorite dessert place was located.

_Burke didn't know what he's missing out today. He'll never know my sinful passion for French dessert. _Cristina licked her lips as she walked up the famous steps in Montmartre.

Crème Brûlée and Thierry on the same day, no other deal could be sweeter than that.

"…Merci." Cristina carefully cracked through the layer of brown crystals with her spoon the way how Burke would normally open a chest.

_Stop thinking about Burke! _Cristina shook her head and allowed her eyes to wander through the midst of passerby. Montmartre was becoming more commercialized than it was years ago, but the artistic stroke to it had not completely vanished. Remembering van Gogh, Renoir, Degas and other famous artists who had walked on the same streets, Cristina wished she could tell someone how she yearned to be the girl who used to dance, paint, eat, and be merry once more.

Looking up at the white palace, more appropriately known as the Sacre Coeur Basilica of Montmatre, Cristina was amused and annoyed by crowds of tourists who were too eager to take pictures of the church.

_Typical tourists._ Cristina wondered why they didn't notice how by inserting their funny faces and bizarre poses into the photo, they were essentially ripping the sacred place of its natural splendor. Cristina could never stand people who took pictures with every single monument. It was the memory that mattered...

_Actually, it's the person beside you who matters,_ she corrected herself with a mixed feeling of regret and bitterness.

Walking past the front door, Cristina knocked at the office window. Immediately she was welcomed by a pair of kind and accepting eyes.

"God Almighty, I can't believe you're here, Cristina!" The man's gentle voice could not conceal the excitement flooding his words.

Cristina wished she could give Thierry a hug. He was one of the very few people she felt comfortable hugging, but she feared it would be improper. Instead, she just waved at him the way she did in the past and smiled, "It's good to see you again, Thierry."

"Don't stand here, come on in. I'll make you coffee."

"Let's see if you still remember how to make my favorite drink."

"Right away, my lady."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the slow update. I am hoping to wrap this story up in 2 days. It's getting more fluffy as I move along, because I don't remember how I started it...Enjoy!**

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**Ch.4**  
Coffee in Paris tasted different. Cristina would laugh when she saw him with his cappuccino in one hand and the map in the other. Sitting at a busy little café by the ritzy Champs Elysees, Burke wondered what to do next. He had been eager to dive into the fascinating sounds and sights of this beautiful city, but his enthusiasm was slowly waning as the sun moved further up the sky.

"Tourist?"

Circling major scenic spots on the map aimlessly, Burke nearly dropped his pen into his coffee when he saw a face appearing in front of him. _Were all French girls so bold in starting a conversation with stranger?_

"Well, yes." Burke pushed his glasses up and carefully examined the young woman who had taken up the seat at the other end of his table. She was probably still in college. Her long black hair was as frizzy as Cristina's. On her wrist was a gold watch that, again, reminded him of Cristina's possession.

_No wonder he was anxious. Regardless of where he went and who he saw, images of his unruly girlfriend kept coming to the surface._

"Alone?" The girl blinked with curiosity written across her face.

"Yes." Burke didn't know if she was trying to flirt with him.

"Sad!" The girl shook her head and said, "Shouldn't tour the city of love alone!"

Burke smiled nervously. He tried very hard to recall what he read about French women in his Lonely Planet but nothing came to mind. The girl wasn't unattractive, nor was he questioning his own manhood, but for some reasons, his fingers tightened around his map and he felt his feet slowly leaving the ground.

Being a conservative at heart, Burke knew that while traveling alone might be bad, being seen with another woman in a foreign city would be 10 times worse. Burke couldn't help but look around to see if anyone had noticed. It turned out the café was packed with loving couples and he was the only guy sitting by himself.

"Anyway, I've to go and meet someone now." Feeling completely out of place, Burke put a few Euro on the table and stood up.

Only when he turned back a little later from the other side of the street did Burke realize the girl was kissing another guy passionately. _She was only waiting to get that table!_ Burke wiggled his eyebrows and headed for the metro station. He thought the subway map would give him some insight. Nobody warned him beforehand that the Parisian metro system was more complicated than ten overlapping spider webs.

When he saw _Centre du Pompidou_ on the advertisement board, Burke finally smiled. He couldn't tell whether it was the contrasting colors or the funny name that captured his attention; all he knew was that it looked messy with the pipes and messy was good.

Following what other passengers did, Burke lifted up the tiny handle on the subway door and was ready for his next stop.

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"Where do you plan to go next?" Thierry inquired as he sat beside Cristina on a bench outside the Basilica. Doing his math quietly, he knew Cristina was probably in her early 30s now. Yet, to him, she would forever be that free-spirited young girl he met many summers ago.

Cristina's fingers danced timidly around the cup. "This coffee is good."

"I know you'll love it, but you aren't going to sit with this poor old man all day long drinking coffee, are you?" Thierry turned to her and smiled.

_It wasn't so bad an idea to be sitting here. There wasn't any place she had a burning desire to visit._ Paris held too many memories of her youth. She couldn't quite place her finger on the next destination.

"I think I will go back to the hotel after this," she finally came up with a reply.

"Now, young lady, you're not supposed to waste your money and time this way. Flying all the way here from America without revisiting your dearest city in depth?"  
"Well, I'm here for Jeanne's wedding."

"At the very least, you should have brought your boyfriend with you," Thierry patted the back of Cristina's hand.

"How do you know I have a boyfriend?" Cristina smirked.

"You can't lie to your dear old Thierry. Now, tell me who he is, what he does, and more importantly, why you aren't bringing him with you."

"Because I don't want you to have another heart attack," Cristina tried to change the subject.

"And I know you will save me, just like what you did last time!" Thierry brushed his beard with his hand and laughed.

For outsiders, it was a weird friendship from the beginning. Many years ago, when Cristina was acting against her parents' will and aspiring to become an artist of some sort by staying in Paris for a semester, she performed her first life-saving procedure on the Catholic priest. Everyone thought she was amazing; of course, nobody told them this petite Asian girl got her first CPR training when she was barely 16.

"He is a heart surgeon," Cristina threw in a response quietly.

"Who?" Thierry's eyes twinkled. "Your boyfriend?"

"I brought him to Paris actually," Cristina nodded. "But we decided to visit the city alone."

"Does he speak French?"

"No," Cristina bit her lower lip. "But he has a map."

"So, this boyfriend of yours got into a fight with you and you left him with a map?"

"Stop speculating."

"Too bad. I thought I could show your boyfriend how beautiful this city really is, the same way I did after you rescued me last time," Thierry took the empty cup from Cristina's hands. "You know I'm the best tour guide in town!"

Cristina wiped the corner of her mouth with the knuckle on her thumb and nodded. _Where was Burke now? Maybe she shouldn't have left him behind. What if he really got lost?_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You can tell that I Love Paris with a capital L. This fic is my way to show my love. I hope I didn't let the story slip too much.**

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**Ch. 5**  
Burke certainly did not expect to get out of the station after one stop. After all, he paid 1.4 euro for his ticket. But when he saw everyone leaving the train after a lengthy announcement on the public system, he thought it'd be wise to follow others—even though the atmosphere was too calm to be indicative of a terrorist attack. Later that day, someone would tell him it was just another strike by the rail workers.

_How was he supposed to get to the art museum?_ Burke tried to conceal his anxiety as he took a close look at the map again.

The layout of Paris did not betray the city's artistic temperament. Burke's dislike grew for the little French man who allowed roads to start crawling out from the Arc de Triomphe; and his successors, who must have been vicious in giving the same street a different name every other block.

Burke thought he was handling the situation better than anyone would have expected. He only had to pass the same angry-looking panhandler three times before seeing the sign of Rue Saint-Martin, and another 3 to 4 wrong turns into shady alleyways before reaching the entrance of Pompidou.

_Remarkable. So unlike the classy, romantic, scholarly image Burke had always dreamed about Paris._ The longer he stared at the humongous structure in front of him, the more he liked it. A man of principle and structure, Preston Burke was beginning to see behind those cold iron rods that braided themselves around the block methodically, with a peculiar rhythm that could almost be heard in his head.

_Cristina would probably like it._

"Are you going to get a ticket or not?" Another tourist in line, most likely also American, was growing impatient as Burke remained in his dream-like mode.

_Why were they fighting this morning? If only Cristina could be beside him now. She might even strike down the rude tourist behind him._ Burke gasped as he reckoned how he felt like a little boy wanting to tell his mom every minute detail that happened after a long day at school.

The sun had slowly begun its downward stride. Modern art was a form of art, but paying 10 bucks to look at chairs, dots, and interwoven lines did not suit his appetite for the day. With his stomach as empty as his mind, Burke left the art museum.

_Maybe he should just go back to the hotel now. Paris did not appeal to him anymore._  
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Cristina was incredibly quiet as Thierry's Volvo rolled down the street. He promised to give her a quick, updated tour of Paris before giving her a ride back to the hotel, but her mind was off in the air, thinking of something else.

"Next time, remember to give him a cell phone," Thierry said without looking at Cristina, "Then you don't have to worry about him so much."

"I'm not worrying about him," Cristina pouted.

"Then why are you sticking your eyeballs on the window?" Thierry laughed.

"Because I love Paris."

"Not as much as you love that heart surgeon of yours," Thierry's lips curled up. "What's Mr. Mysterious Guy called?"

"Burke. Preston Burke," Cristina reluctantly answered after she succumbed to the penetrating enthusiasm in the old priest's eyes. _Who said priests were not interested in worldly things?_

"Tell me more."

Cristina glanced at Thierry with a _why do you think I'll tell you_ expression before opening her mouth again. "He is a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon at my hospital. He has performed many ground-breaking surgeries…"

"Cristina, I am not screening your boyfriend to be head of the WHO."

"What do you want to know?" Cristina rested her head on her palm.

"What brought you two together?"

"Coffee."

"Now, THAT is interesting."

"Well, I guess he also has a reputation for being tall, dark, and handsome."

"Our Cristina is going for the superficial? That's a little hard to believe!" Thierry recalled the girl's disdain for Chanel, YSL, Dior—any designer's labels back when she was in college.

"He's an honest man." Cristina shut her eyes. Proud and guilty memories flushed through her at once.

"That is more like the Cristina I know. Do you see a future in the two of you? Something serious down the road?"

"I don't know," Cristina examined the tip of her fingers mindlessly.

"Because?"

"Thierry, you realize you've asked too many questions in a roll?" Cristina squinted her eyes.

"You know you want to tell somebody. You know you want to tell me because I am good at keeping secrets, much better than any best friends you've ever had." Thierry nudged her with his elbow.

"Well, I think we're too different. When I want to go slow, he hurries me. When I want to move faster, he slows down. He is a clean freak and I am a mess—"

"Do you like Paris, Cristina?"

"Of course I do."

"If the Louvre and the Pompidou can coexist and make the city all the more attractive, why can't you and your guy?"

_The analogy wasn't perfect; it was a bit forced._ Cristina sincerely hoped Thierry was better with words when he had to give his Sunday sermons. Yet, she couldn't stop thinking about it over and over.

"Speaking of the Pompidou, here we are. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

Before Cristina got a chance to reply, her jaw dropped. _Only in movies would this happen._

She rubbed her eyes, but nothing changed. Pointing at the figure sitting outside the museum, Cristina whispered in disbelief, "That guy over there? That's Burke."


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch.6**

"Hey," Cristina's feet stopped as she quickly scanned through his entire body, making sure he was doing fine.

Thierry was right. She was worried. _After all, Paris wasn't the friendliest city and Burke wasn't the smartest tourist. Besides, how could she have forgotten how she nearly lost him many months ago to the gun shot?_

Noticing the undivided attention Cristina graced upon him, which lasted for at least 3000 milliseconds, Burke motioned forward. His arm and the back of Cristina's waist were a perfect set of lock and key.

Although Cristina was still feeling a little edgy, she did not push him away. Instead, she returned Burke's sheepish smile with a softened expression on her face.

"Fr. Thierry Garnier," Cristina turned to Thierry and said, "Dr. Preston Burke."

"Call me Thierry. I'm sure you don't want me to call you Dr. Burke," Thierry extended his arm and received Burke's hand warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"My pleasure, Thierry."

No matter what he had been through, Burke played the role of a graceful diplomat to its perfection as he greeted Thierry. Cristina immediately rolled her eyes. _Her boyfriend did have a way to charm people._

"Thierry is a long-time friend of mine. We met many years ago when I was studying here."

"Preston, can I call you Preston?" Thierry paused before he saw a nod from Burke.

"Don't forget to ask your girlfriend about her first public display of talent as a doctor!"

Burke shot a suspicious look at Cristina, who was pushing some of her curls to the back of her ear without looking up.

The sun was shying away from the earth. Soon it would be completely dark.

Cristina asked to be dropped off by the Seine. The river was running through the city like a source of life. Cristina hated ferryboats in Seattle, but she was secretly hoping to get Burke onto the sightseeing boat after Thierry left.

_It held an irreplaceable piece of memory of her days in Paris. Something she was ready to share with Burke._

"You two love birds should go and enjoy the rest of the evening. This old man here has to go home and say his prayers."

"Thank you, Thierry." Cristina was going to miss this solid handshake from the man who was both a friend and almost a father to her.

"I know Cristina is Jewish, but if you decide to get married in Paris one day, you know which church to go to." Thierry waved at the couple from the rear mirror and drove off.

"So, do you want to get on one of those sightseeing boats?"

Burke hesitated. _Cristina wasn't keen on being a tourist. Would it be a trick question for him?_

"Do you, Cristina?"

"Well, I can go if you want to."

"Let's not do it then," Burke responded curtly, taking Cristina's answer as a no.

Immediately, he realized he had given the wrong response. Cristina, contrary to his expectation, appeared mildly disappointed.

"Ok, never mind," she said as she approached the opposite direction.

"Wait, Cristina. I thought you don't want to go?"

"Why would I ask if I wasn't interested?" Cristina pulled a strand of her hair up and then let it go. She was trying her best to hide her frustration.

Without saying another word, Burke grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the ticketing office. "Two tickets please."

"Hang on, it isn't completely dark yet. Why don't we eat something first?" The firm grip of Burke was reassuring, but Cristina didn't want to feel like she's being pushed around.

_That's exactly what she meant by him going too fast when she's slow and vice versa! If only they could move at the same pace. In fact, there were times they did, but more often they didn't._

In order not to miss their boat ride, they settled for a fast food stall along the Seine. Each of them ordered a fish burger. Sitting on the riverbank under the dimly lit street lamps, neither of them had the courage to break the silence. Eventually, Cristina spoke up.

"How was your day?"

"I went to the top of the Notre Dame."

"You did?" Cristina's eyes glistened. "I used to like that a lot. My friends and I would sneak up there at night and drink."

"I thought it closes in the evening."

"There's no such thing as a closed door in this world when you know where to find the key," Cristina laughed.

"How about you? Where did you go after you left?" Burke was preparing to hear other outrageous stories from his girlfriend.

"I went to have my favorite dessert, then I walked around Montmartre before meeting up with Thierry."

"Is that there place where you see a lot of artists?"

"Renoir's house was there," Cristina added matter-of-factly.

"I didn't go into the Pompidou," Burke touched his glasses.

"I didn't know you are into modern arts."

"I'm not. But that museum had something radiant about it."

It wouldn't take long for Burke to notice that Cristina was delighted to hear that he shared similar sentiments towards her favorite place in Paris. "It's awesome."

"But I'm glad I didn't go in," Burke looked deep into Cristina's eyes. "Or you wouldn't have found me."

"Yea, whatever." Cristina wanted to smack him for being so cunningly sweet.

Paris was a romantic city, but it embarrassed her to realize that she was actually enjoying their _date_. There was no candlelight dinner, only two fish burgers; no champagne, only diet cokes; no moonlight, only street light. Yet, she felt like a 20-year-old once again, meeting her boyfriend in secret, tasting the forbidden fruit of love.

"Are you ready to go on the boat ride yet?" Burke placed his jacket over her shoulders as they took small steps along the river.

"Do you want to know why I like it?"

"Why?" Burke raised his head.

"My best friend made everyone sing Happy Birthday to me on the boat one night," a gentle, almost fragile smile flashed across Cristina's face.

"How old were you?"

"It wasn't my birthday."

Burke scratched the top of his nose. "Whose birthday was it?"

"Nobody's. He learned that nobody had ever sung me a Happy Birthday before, not even when I was little, so he decided to give me a surprise that night."

Cristina's dreamy look unnerved Burke a bit. He wondered if it was just a _friend_. "I thought Meredith's your best friend. You never mentioned this guy before."

"Can't I have a life before selling my soul to medicine?" Cristina was amused by the jealousy obvious in Burke's tone. "You wouldn't recognize me if you met me 10 years ago anyway."

Burke took a good look at the woman beside him, pondering on what to say.

"His name was Kyle. A kid I tutored. He died of leukemia a week later."

Cristina let her hair spread across the overbearing darkness as she leaned on the back of her seat, sideways.

Drawing himself closer to her, Burke began to think of the Cristina who had a passion for modern art, the Cristina who used to enjoy spending time with young children. So many things had been left out in their relationship that suddenly Burke wasn't sure if he really knew her.

"He's a very sweet boy. Always thought about me first, even though I was much older and should be protecting him."

Cristina crossed her legs, her toes carelessly touching Burke's ankle. He didn't say a word but only listened.

"Most people don't care about me the way you two did," Cristina rested her fingers loosely on his palm and then squeezed it. "Next time I won't leave you alone in a foreign city, OK?"

They both smiled. The night had just begun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ch. 7**  
"See, I told you we have to wait till it's completely dark. Now you can see how beautiful the Tour Eiffel is glowing at night," A sense of accomplishment surged through her body as Cristina spoke. They had wasted an entire day but finally she was able to show Burke her version of Paris.

"I am beginning to understand why Meredith likes to take ferryboat rides with Derek," Burke nodded.

"Don't you dare compare the sacred Seine boat ride with the Seattle ferryboats! That's blasphemy!" Cristina shook her head, with a tint of disgust on her face. "There, now pay attention to the left bank. That's the Louvre. That's the Palace…"

Burke was trying to absorb all the information floating around him. Apart from identifying scalpels and medical instruments in the OR, he had never seen Cristina being so animated while describing something.

_If they're getting married one day, he really should consider Paris. But of course, it wasn't the right time to ask, nor to plan for it yet. There're many gaps he wanted to fill before either of them would feel ready._

"Burke, are you listening?" Cristina snorted.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I was telling you the history of the Versailles."

"I thought it's in the suburb." Burke scratched his head.

"Yes, but you can't be in Paris without knowing about the Versailles, or about Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette," Cristina seasoned her voice with a sense of stubbornness.

"What about Napoleon and Josephine, Cristina?" Although Cristina might not have noticed, Burke had his fair share of knowledge about France, especially the romantic side.

"Burke, you don't want to go there, do you?" A look of suspicion ruled over Cristina's eyes. "If you want to talk about Elisabeth and Mr. Darcy next time, go find Meredith."

Burke rocked Cristina gently in his arms as he whispered into her ear, "I don't need to talk about romance; I want to live it."

The pouty expression on Cristina's face dissolved into a smile, "You must have read a lot of cheesy chick-flicks growing up in Alabama, Babe."

Sniffing her hair from behind, Burke secretly took out his cell phone and made a quick snap of them. Years from now, people would always stop to ask what those two blurry dark figures in his wallet were, during which he would always present them with a radiant grin.

_It was the first picture they took as a couple; it surely wasn't going to be the last._

The boat was filled with rowdy travelers from all over the world, some speaking Farsi, others Greek. For Burke and Cristina, however, the world around them had stopped revolving. It was like a night that would never end, a universe that was only occupied by the two of them.

Still reminiscing the wonderful boat trip, Cristina tumbled forward as her feet touched the ground. Burke immediately grabbed her hand tightly and steadied her steps. Like an old couple who had been walking together all their lives, Burke's fingers were tightly wrapped around hers, never leaving again.

It was chilly out there. Cristina Yang generally wasn't too fond of walking in slow motion on such a windy night, but she knew this night was going to be savored and re-lived in her head for the rest of her life. It was one of those rare moments in which the two of them were walking at the same pace, sharing the same giddy feeling towards life.

_Cristina didn't like to slow down, but for him, she knew she could._

Instead of using her remaining hand on holding down her uncontrollable hair, Cristina adjusted her body and rested this other hand on Burke's sturdy chest.

In that embarrassingly sweet moment on the Parisian pavement, a passionate kiss had just exploded.

But as in every romantic comedy, there had to be a twist—Somebody's stomach groaned; the fish fillet burger was obviously not enough.

Curling her lips into a smile of mischief, Cristina's eyes sparkled in darkness. "Let's eat."

"I thought we've only just eaten."

"You can't lie to your stomach." Without another word, Cristina pulled him down the metro station.

"Isn't it dangerous to ride the train at night?" Burke was a bit nervous as they stood on the platform, right next to an old guy playing some weird tune with his guitar.

"Not when you're protecting me," Cristina blinked. "Just don't push anyone down the rail. I don't have enough money to bail you out."

"So, it's not dangerous?"

"Don't be so neurotic, Burke. This isn't New York." Cristina turned the handle and pushed him onto the train. "Besides, nobody is gonna hurt us."

"Why?"

"Because you're tall and intimidating," Cristina smirked.

"Am I?" Burke furrowed his brows in confusion as Cristina brushed her head against his arm and hid her naughty smile.

When the metro slowly crawled into Gare de Lyon, the couple bid farewell to the green cubicles and ascended to the ground level where people were waving their loved ones goodbye, sending them off to as far as Italy and Greece.

Burke concealed his excitement as they approached the Le Train Bleu restaurant. He had read about it from his Lonely Planet. It was a ritzy place to dine at, but it delighted him that Cristina was making such a refined choice.

When Cristina walked past the restaurant without looking back, Burke couldn't help but asked, "I thought we're going to this restaurant right here."

"Are you kidding, Burke? What makes you think they'd accept guests in jeans?" Cristina shook her head.

"Well, Ok." Having been with Cristina for over four years now, Burke realized he's still not very good at handling disappointment.

The ghastly wind was blowing mercilessly outside the station. Lucky for them, it only drew the two people closer together.

"There is no restaurant," Burke looked around the dimly-lit neighborhood and exclaimed.

"It's just around the corner," Cristina hurried him to cross to the other side of the street.

Trying his best to think of what he had read on his Lonely Planet, Burke didn't recall seeing anything about nice restaurants near the major train station in Paris.

The sullenness in Burke amused Cristina. _Sometimes, she wondered about the age of the child trapped in the body of her strong big man._ "Stop looking like an abuse victim."

"I'm just hungry, Cristina," Burke tried to defend himself.

"Whatever. I guarantee it'll be 10 times better than that sumptuous, good-for-nothing restaurant you just saw."

"What's so special about the place we're going to?"

"You'll be very surprised," Cristina rolled her eyes and ushered him along. 


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update. It's been a while and this story will go on as long as possible. **

**Ch. 8**  
Fifteen minutes quickly passed by, and finally they stopped outside a dimly lit entrance to a place behind the post office.

"Is this place still open?" Burke looked at his watch and wondered.

"They will be open for us, don't worry," Cristina smirked.

Just as they were stepping into the restaurant, someone shouted in excitement, "Oh. My. God! Yang Tae Hee, I can't believe you're here!"

"It's Cristina! How many times do I have to tell you that, Mrs. Mindy Patterson!"

As much as Cristina disliked being hugged, she was quite complacent when the other Asian woman wrapped her arms around Cristina behind her pink apron. Burke knew right away this Mindy must be someone special to his girlfriend.

"Gosh, My Phuong, you're still the same!" Cristina gave her friend a squeeze on the arm.

"And I still hear bossy in your tone!" Mindy chuckled as her gaze shifted towards Burke.

"Preston Burke," Burke made his way into the conversation without feeling like a threesome. "Nice to meet you."

"Hi Preston. I'm My Phuong, but you can call me Mindy. I didn't have an English name back then. This girl made that up for me. So, are you Cristina's—"

"He's my guy," Cristina's face lit up as she mumbled that to Mindy, as if there's a secret only the two women could share.

Once again, Burke was stunned by what he saw and heard. Cristina was right, there's so much about her that he's yet to find out.

"Cristina and I took Art History together," Mindy hurried to the kitchen counter, turned on the work light and began peeling cucumbers.

"Mindy's the best cook in Paris before she met her husband Grove," Cristina smirked, "Who himself is a top chef."

"I married him thinking I've found myself a man to cook for me for the rest of my life," Mindy rolled her eyes. "And now he only cooks for his hotel clients as I slave away in our tiny restaurant!"

"Burke cooks for me," Cristina uttered that nonchalantly, although Burke saw a tiny bit of pride on her face.

"That's because he doesn't want you to set the house on fire!" Mindy blinked.

Cristina shot her friend a death stare, while Burke shrugged at Mindy and said, "Cristina makes excellent coffee."

Cristina blushed as Burke placed his hand on hers.

"Really? You never made me coffee!" Mindy pretended to frown. "So aside from the _Bi cuon_ I taught her, you're telling me she's also an expert in brewing coffee?"

"I didn't realize Cristina cooks," Burke brushed his eyebrow with the tip of index finger.

Cristina blinked innocently at both of them. "Hurry up. There are two starving people here."

"Points for making an attempt to change the subject," Mindy winked at them. "You know, you should come over and give me a hand!"

Burke swiftly stood up and was ready to help.

"No, not you. You just sit and see Cristina prove herself."

Cristina's shoulders jumped as she heard that, with the _why me_ expression stamped on her face, "And you're not worried I would burn down your place?"

"No silly. Now go grate those carrots for me please," Mindy took no time to move Cristina to the chopper board and get her into the cooking mode.

It was a small restaurant where customers had the pleasure to witness the action in the front kitchen where cold dishes were made. Burke sat across the kitchen counter, fixating his gaze on the fingers dangling over the orange pieces.

It reminded him of watching Cristina do the sutures or stitches in the OR across him, only it was way more breathtaking to see her dissect a carrot than to do the running-whip stitch.

_Of course she could cook! Holding a grater wouldn't be much different from holding a scalpel, would it?_ Burke was still smiling at the thought when the grater suddenly seemed to be possessed by evil spirits and got out of control.

Sensing the attention Burke was showering on her, Cristina bit her lips and stubbornly continued working on the carrots without looking up.

She was so engrossed in her task that it took her a while to feel the calm and steady breathing beside her ear and the strong hand that was supporting her lower back.

Part of Cristina tensed up, resenting the possibility that Burke would soon step in and take over. But the longer he stayed in that position without actually interfering with her work in progress, the more her body relaxed. Soon, they began to breathe in synchrony.

There were a million questions Mindy wanted to fire at the couple, but it would be a sin to disrupt the image of perfect harmony glistening at the corner of her eye.  
Carrying a huge pot of soup and a smile of bliss, Mindy disappeared into the back kitchen to make sure there would actually be food on the table for her friends. She could always use the carrots the next day.

Aside from the French music playing in the air and the big old fan whirling slowly in the corner, the place was as quiet as it would be. Burke wanted to whisper a word or two into those beautiful ears, but he didn't want Cristina to grate her fingers away.

Several times when the carrots or the grater was about to slip, Burke's heart would leap with a fear that Cristina was going to hurt herself. Somehow, every time he succeeded in keeping his mouth shut.

Over this past year, Burke realized it wasn't enough to trust that Cristina could excel as a surgeon, because that's something she already had a lot of confidence in.

_But sometimes the best way to show trust was to allow the other person know that it's ok to be imperfect, that he'll still be there with her to embrace the fall._ That's something Cristina taught him when she rose to the challenge after he was shot.

When Cristina was finally done with the carrots, she turned to give Burke a surprise kiss, her fingers traveling down the back of his head tenderly.

Instead of wondering if his hair was going to smell like carrots, Burke kept wishing they were not in someone else's kitchen.

"Don't even think I'll cook at home," Cristina rolled her eyes and returned to her normal self as she saw Mindy coming out from the back kitchen.

"You're always welcome to use my kitchen," Mindy smirked.

"It looks like food is ready," Burke butted in before Cristina got a chance to make another smart comment.

"Not until Cristina fills me in with everything that's happened since we last met!" Mindy gave her friend a push by the elbow.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Cristina went to the fridge as if it's her own apartment and asked, "Beer, anyone?"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, although not too many. They motivate me to write more. BANG will live on in my world...  
**

**Ch. 9**  
"How do you keep up with Cristina's sharp wit, Preston?" Mindy inquired as she brought the couple coconut water instead of beer. "Her ability to change the subject always amazes me!"

Cristina frowned as she tried to convince herself she didn't care about what Burke would say.

Burke remained silent, wondering how best to respond to that question as the two women began to stare at him. "So, Mindy, how was it like to be Cristina's classmate?"

"See, Burke's switching topics as well," Cristina gave a triumphant grin.

"Is that how the two of you communicate?" Mindy was stunned.

Burke and Cristina tilted their head up at the same time and asked, "Why?"

"I mean, do you ever fight? There's no way you'd yell at each other if both of you're so good at steering away from sensitive stuff?" Mindy tapped her fingers on her chin.

"Oh, we fight all the time," Cristina made it sound as if more would always be better. "Huge fights."

Burke almost choked on the spring roll, "It's not like that. Sometimes we… we don't agree on something and we try to… discuss it."

Smirking at Burke's failing attempt to appear as the perfect couple, Cristina went on, "It's healthy to argue and fight until we lose our voice. That's what the brutally honest Americans advocate for."

Moving his knees closer to Cristina's under the table, Burke suddenly grabbed her waist and tried to conceal his nervousness with a smile, "What Cristina is saying is that we value honesty as a virtue… and it's better to talk than to remain quiet."

The last word echoed in the air and all of a sudden the expression on Cristina's face changed. She knew she wasn't going to fight back or tease him this time.

Burke's grip on Cristina tightened as he looked into her eyes, finding a shimmer of mutual agreement. Immediately, Burke knew that painful part of their history—those tormenting weeks of silence after his injury, and then after he left her at the altar—would never be disclosed.

"You must be a very special person, Preston, for Cristina to actually _talk_ to you." Mindy motioned towards the back kitchen for dessert. "Most people find this girl harder to crack than a rock."

Cristina slowly turned away from Burke, her mind charged with the realization about how far they've been through as a couple.

"Actually, there is no point in fighting with Cristina," Burke smiled, now more at ease.

"Why?" Curiosity covered the two women's face.

Clearing his throat, Burke replied in his steady and sure voice, "You don't want to make the person you love unhappy. I won't be happy if Cristina isn't, so I can't not let her win."

Normally, Cristina would have challenged what Burke just said, but as her cheeks grew warm, so did her heart; every word she had on her tongue was lost.

Mindy smiled. They're as sweet as the coconut water in front of them. "If only my husband heard what you just said!"

"Yeah. This boyfriend of mine is really good with words. He can be a motivational speaker if the hospital doesn't want him anymore." With that comment Burke knew his sharp tongued Cristina was back.

"Do you want me to leave the hospital so badly?" Burke laughed.

"It isn't easy to work together, is it? I bet people must have gossiped a lot about you two," Mindy said thoughtfully.

"Burke would fire them if they do," Cristina's face was animated with a readiness to torture.

"Or the resident from hell would make their life miserable," Burke chimed in.

"Burke!" Cristina made a quick slap on Burke's lap. But while she didn't want her good friend to hear about her nickname at Seattle Grace, it was in fact quite cute to hear her dorky boyfriend say it out loud.

Mindy nodded knowingly while Cristina desperately tried to hide her pleasure.

"We don't see each other often even though we work in the same hospital," Burke clarified.

"Because _somebody_ isn't my boyfriend when at work," Cristina rolled her eyes as she recalled that time when she asked Burke to help her find an amputated leg.

"What a shame! That means you won't save your girlfriend when she's in trouble, even though you work under the same roof?" Mindy shot Burke a slightly irritated glance.

Embarrassed, Burke scratched the back of his ear, "Well, I—"

"It doesn't matter. I have my own clan of intern slaves to take care of business," Cristina shifted her gaze.

"But I'm still the only one who brings you coffee when you forget to take your travel mug to work," Burke was always proud when he recounted how their relationship sprung out of the coffee he handed Cristina the day after Nurse Fallon died.

"I'm sure coffee from the boyfriend always tastes better," Mindy smiled at Cristina.

"Correction—Coffee from my boss who tries to distract me from work and lure me to bed," Cristina shrugged nonchalantly.

"Cristina!" Burke was beginning to worry if that's how Cristina introduced him to everyone she knew.

"Honey, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone knows I'm a hot person and it's worth crossing every single line to get me," Cristina said confidently.

"It's true, Preston. You won't believe what other guys have tried when we're at school—roses, chocolate, home-made soufflé, even a piece of stained glass window!" Mindy added.

"Well, that sounds very... exotic." Burke gulped, wondering if the brains of French men were made with different material.

"Yeah. You should be glad you won her over just by a cup of coffee," Mindy laughed.

"And all the mind-blowing sex in the on-call room that followed," Cristina grinned with mischief as Burke blushed.

"Is it really common to sleep with your coworkers in the hospital like they do on TV?" Mindy's eyes bulged out with a mixture of surprise and horror.

Narrowing his eyes for a brief moment, Burke touched the corner of his mouth with his tongue, "Seattle Grace was notorious for that before I became Chief. There was actually an outbreak of syphilis when Cristina was an intern."

"Oh my God!" Mindy shook her head in disbelief. "Did you—"

"Of course not!" Cristina and Burke exclaimed in one voice before they smiled at each other knowingly.

"I think we both had a bit of doubt before that day when pretty much everyone got tested for syphilis," Burke filled in the details calmly.

Mindy's eyes glowed. "You only found out the relationship was exclusive after that?"

"See, Mindy, who would imagine there's no other woman attached to this tall, dark, and handsome cardiothoracic surgeon?" Cristina glanced at Burke briefly.

Burke would never say it out loud but he liked how proud Cristina was when talking about him. "Well, it's equally hard to believe this smart, young, and attractive intern wasn't going out with a dozen other guys."

"Like who? Aside from Alex, who was clearly falling head-to-toe for Izzie Stevens the multiple killer, I don't recall knowing any other normal single straight guy in the hospital."

After hearing the story about the model-turned intern who killed her fiance by cutting his LVAD and later killing another intern who committed adultery with her before shooting herself, all Mindy was capable of uttering was a "Wow".

"We're probably the only ones who left the line before getting tested," Burke concluded.

"Obviously you two are made for one another!"

Burke squeezed Cristina's hand under the table as she blushed for the second time this evening.

Gazing at the clock on the wall, Cristina announced it was time to go. "Thanks for the dinner, Mindy."

"My pleasure. I hope I don't have to wait for another 10 years before I see you again," Mindy gave Burke a friendly pat on the shoulder before hugging her friend.

"I hope it won't take me another decade to have Cristina agree to marry me," Burke clearly had a plan.

"Who said I'll ever marry you?" Cristina's lips cringed with amusement and mild apprehension. Even though things have been going smoothly lately, she still remembered vividly how their wedding failed the first time.

"Good night the two of you," Mindy paused before she winked at Burke and whispered into his ear, "There's no better place than Paris... Good luck!"


End file.
